


Such a Fucking Brat

by Cattycat1310



Series: A Dance of Disobedience [1]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Tommy Shelby, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Married Couple, Misbehaving, Tommy Shelby is a brat, Top Alfie Solomons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattycat1310/pseuds/Cattycat1310
Summary: Tommy is determined that he's not going to this Dinner Party, and there's no way in hell anyone is changing his mind.And that might just come at a cost.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: A Dance of Disobedience [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817794
Comments: 9
Kudos: 90





	Such a Fucking Brat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [100dabbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/gifts).



> Hiya! I hope you like this little modern au idea I had, because Tommy is just one hell of a brat sometimes and i really enjoyed writing it.  
> I hope you enjoy it :)))

An unlit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, Tommy stood under the stark light of the bathroom into his own reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall, well aware of time passing quietly as he stared unflinching into himself. At the crisp collar of his shirt ironed down, at his hair neatly styled, at the black tie that was adjusted tightly around his neck.  
His eyes stung, an unimpressed look passing over his expression. 

In his opinion, he was having a crisis or ‘a fucking overreaction’ as he’d been informed not fifteen minutes prior, but it wasn’t about anything that could be deemed overly important. 

It was about a fucking stupid dinner party with people he could not care less about, bringing up conversation topics he didn’t care for either, drinking overly-expensive wine with their overly-opinionated, conservative colleges and honestly? He’d rather do absolutely anything else that evening. Not to mention the amount of strangers that would clock the gold band on his finger and inquire about the absence of his “wife”. 

The whole thing was a pain, but he’d promised.  
Well, not promised—he said that he’d be there, but to Alfie that was enough to count as a promise, or more like an oath the way he had been rambling on about honour and integrity and all that, for far longer than needed to get his point across.

As he reached for the lighter in his pocket, his skin crawled as the shift of the shirt fabric felt too close around his neck, too restrictive and formal.  
Though no stranger to dressing smartly, something about the intensely frustrating, draining week at work he’d just experienced, made coming home and being shoved straight into an evening suit feel like a chore.

Spending so much of his time working his arse off and ordering people around, he didn’t mind telling people what to do, in fact he was good at telling people what to do. Anyone that knew him would tell you that with an end goal in mind, he knew exactly how to achieve it with calculated precision or get someone else to achieve it for him. And he prided himself on that.

However, the past week had been full of late nights, overtime and cleaning up messes that the people he paid not to make messes couldn’t do themselves apparently.  
With all that time stuck in one office or another, he’d barely had chance to stop and breathe, let alone spend any time with Alfie. Although, he always had him to come home to, he ached to properly see him and tell him something other than goodnight, or I’ll see you later. 

He had to admit, that was the main reason he didn’t want to go out. 

Literally for the first time in what felt like too long, he’d had a chance to get his husband all to himself, but instead he was being forced to share him with strangers and offer tight smiles and polite conversation in response to other businessmen’s bland ideas.  
And just like that, he’d decided, he wasn’t fucking going.

And its not exactly like he could be dragged there kicking and screaming, right?

After taking a moment or two to hype himself up in the mirror, he strutted from the bathroom into the warmth of the living room, where adjusting his cuffs Alfie lingered.

“About time Sweetie” he smirked, before taking his time to look the handsome man in front of him up and down, drinking in the sight shamelessly as he walked slowly forward.

“I have decided” Tommy muttered allowing himself to be pulled into his warm arms “after deep, hard consideration” pressing a soft kiss to his lips “that we will not be going.”

To his surprise, the explosive reaction he’d expected was nowhere to be seen, but instead Alfie continued to kiss him slowly, holding onto his jaw. Soft, tender kisses that instantly began melting away the tension held in his shoulders, and he relaxed into the embrace.

“And I have also decided” he breathed onto his lips as he spoke “that I don’t give a fuck mate.” 

Before he could open his mouth to object, a ringed finger was being pressed hard against his lips. The nerve of the fucker, the audacity. He was the fucking King of Birmingham, nobody would dare shut him up without fear of losing that finger—

“Now listen to me pet, I know that you don’t want to go” Alfie began, his tone warm but instructive, calm but commanding  
“Tom? Look at me yeah. I want you to listen to me carefully hm?”

Tommy clenched his jaw, but nodded his head slightly.  
“Right mate, we’re going to leave this house in ten minutes. Ey” he clicked his fingers in front of the Shelby’s drifting eyes “ten minutes fucking maximum yeah. And then you’re going to talk to some entitled bastards for a while and you’re gonna be nice about it might I add—and then we’re gonna make up some bullshit excuse to leave early but only after I’ve scoped out what food they’ve got going. Because I bet its fuckin crap, but you can’t blame a man for being curious.”

That elicited a breathy laugh from a previously unimpressed Tommy, and his blue eyes crinkled holding onto to every one of the man’s words. How could he still be so endearing when he was being patronising as fuck.

“And then, once you tell Arthur that I’ve like broken my leg or something yeh, I’ll let you improvise with that, bit of artistic freedom you’re always better with words—anyway, once you let him know you’re leaving then and only then, will I bring you back home and fuck you into those sheets like the whore that you are. Sound good Treacle?”

His expression had darkened with the promise of pleasure and a strong hand had snaked around the smaller man’s waist in a possessive grip. But his lips were upturned in a sarcastic smile.  
It made Tommy’s cheeks burn in spite of himself, but he couldn’t help reacting to his frankness when it came to the bedroom. Always so crude.

“You know” roaming his hands across Alfie’s broad chest, he suggested “Or we could just not go at all because you are correct in your thinking. I am.” Taking his lip between his teeth, he allowed his eyes to go wide, as he wandered his cool fingers downward and tugged gently at his waistband. “I’m a whore for you, Mr Solomons.”  
Dragging the syllables of his name out like that—Alfie would be lying if he said the sound didn’t go straight to his cock.

But he could tell that’s what the cheeky bastard wanted, pulling out all the stops: the doe-eyes, the biting the lip, the calling him by his formal title. Oh, the boy knew what he was doing alright, little fuckin wizard at turning him on that he was.  
And who gave him the fucking right? 

Walking into their living room looking all suave, Mr smooth lines, and sharp jawline like he could get his own way just because he was pretty? Not that he really had to try the man was a fucking masterpiece—but that was another discussion.

He was in dangerous territory here okay? Looks like Mr Shelby had forgotten who wore the fuckin trousers here, but being more assertive with him? That would only encourage the fucker.

“Fuck” he sighed as Tommy teased the zip of his trousers, slowly sliding it up and down, eyelashes still fluttering innocently. 

At this point of seemingly no return, Alfie could just go back on his word and say fuck it. But what would that do? Prove to the brat that he could get his own way by acting all cute and bossy that’s what. But despite the urge to stay home and fuck his husband all night long, he couldn’t have that now could he? Nah that just wouldn’t do.

Barely a moment together all week, and the Shelby lad was fucking gagging for it. He could tell from his blown-out pupils, and the neediness that his expression screamed yeah, he knew that he needed a good fuck to take his mind off things. The feeling was mutual.

And if he’d been feeling particularly nice that evening, he would have given the man what he wanted. You know, to be fair and all that.

But something about the thought of seeing Tommy squirm whilst interacting with polite company, knowing that even though numbers and statistics were falling from his lips, his mind was fixating on the way his husband’s fingers curled inside him, the way he could draw the most scandalous noises from him with barely a single touch and he’d let him; Immaculate mate. Unmatched.

It gave him great satisfaction to picture the brunet having to be patient for once in his life and knowing that despite being surrounded by wealthy, knowledgeable people, he knew who he belonged to. 

“Get in the fucking car, Thomas” he practically growled in his ear, but neither man moved in inch. 

Seemingly waiting for a response, a fuck off Alfie or even a pet lip- he wouldn’t put it past him- he studied the way the other man blinked slowly before parted his lips as if coming to a decision.

Alfie’s eyes warned _don’t you fucking dare_ so that his mouth didn’t have to, and the tension that was steadily rising between them made Tommy giggle slightly in anticipation, before clucking his tongue in defiance and declaring,

“No.”

Was that a fucking giggle he’d just heard? Was that bit of cheek he’d just been subjected to? Because if it was, oh, oh, well that was a big fucking mistake wasn’t it. 

Now Alfie was going to have to go back on his gold-standard, infamously unbreakable honour and word, and teach his brat of a husband a lesson, wasn’t he? Didn’t have a choice really.

And just like that, he raised an eyebrow before roughly hoisting Tommy’s slender frame over his shoulder and marching him up the stairs.

Thrown onto the soft, cushioned sheets as soon as the door closed, Tommy couldn’t hide the wide grin that threatened to stretch across his face as his neck was attacked with harsh kisses, tailored jacket being torn off his body and thrown carelessly in a heap.

“This” Alfie emphasised his words by pressing a rough hand around his neck  
“Is what fucking happens when you push your luck isn’t it Tom?”

A laugh couldn’t help but escape the man beneath him, as he nodded enthusiastically and hummed  
“Oh I’m ever so sorry Mr Solomons I can’t help it!”

He bared his neck under the harsh touch and moaned gently at the body pressing him down into the mattress, so fucking desperate and eager and Alfie couldn’t control himself any longer.

“Well you know what they say Treacle.” He loosened the black tie and continued nipping at the exposed skin “The most expensive suits are worn to be taken off aren’t they? Fuckin tease..” 

And with that acting as the only warning, he ripped open the freshly pressed, white shirt, buttons and all and licked a stripe up his toned chest.  
It was like Alfie’s restraint had been spent and he’d allowed himself to give into his primal instincts or something because fucking hell, he couldn’t get at his body fast enough, tugging at his waistband and sucking onto the supple flesh.

“Oh shit!” Tommy groaned half recalling the price of the newly-ruined shirt, and half in surrender to how forcefully he was being ravaged. Okay fuck it, he didn’t care about the shirt—small price to pay.

This was what he wanted? Alfie was gonna fucking give it to him wasn’t he, and there was no way in hell the lad was going to be able to walk tomorrow without remembering this vital message:  
Do not tease Alfie Solomons.

Upon returning his hand around the cheeky bastard’s throat, he noticed how an excited smile still rested on Tommy’s face.

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously love” he growled low  
“Do I need to teach you how to fucking behave?”

And the nerve of the fucker, he giggled again. 

Even with Alfie’s broad figure looming over him, his body bare and vulnerable—he looked into his eyes with a bravery and defiance that no other man could get away with and he laughed.

“Answer me.”

“You can try.” Tommy whispered, his breath hitching as he spoke, eyes widening slightly in anticipation as if expecting that he was definitely going to regret it.

_Looks like someone has a death-wish tonight._

“Arms up. Now.” Alfie warned, reaching for the black tie and snapping the fabric taught in his grip.

Despite obviously being in the mood to get put in his fucking place, the dominant tone in his voice had the smaller man obeying almost instantly, the smug grin quickly falling from his face as his hands were tied forcefully to the headboard.

Satisfied with the knot, he began working at Tommy’s belt, tugging and revealing the bulge in his underwear, his toned thighs covered in goosebumps, not stopping until he was completely naked beneath him.  
Now, with his body utterly at the mercy of Alfie’s wandering hands, with his own hands bound, he twisted and writhed as hungry eyes gazed over his body completely on show. At the way his hips bucked slightly chasing friction. At how the bead of pre-cum forming from his exposed erection revealed just how turned on he was from just being man handled. _Fucking hell_ , Alfie smiled to himself at the sight before mumbling,

“Such a fuckin brat.”

Although wanting to draw out this scrutiny of each and every curve and freckle on Tommy’s figure for the rest of the evening, make him wait for it—make him beg for it, Alfie was just far too hard to hold back from claiming his body any longer.

Reaching one hand down to run his rough palm across Tommy’s cock once providing him with a small mercy of friction, two fingers of the other slid into the warmth of his husband’s waiting wet mouth, pushing down on his tongue to cause a groan as he sucked obediently around them.

Only when his eyes became glassy from the force of the fingers invading his mouth, did Alfie remove them to tease his hole instead, inserting one after receiving a frustrated whine. He continued to stretch the man beneath him before adding a second digit searching for the sweet spot that was guaranteed to make him squeal. 

Curling his fingers and scissoring him open, Tommy started falling apart under his touch, breathy moans turning into choked whines as Alfie rubbed inside him more thoroughly and torturously than he usually needed to. 

So touch-starved from a long week, he was already so close that if Alfie continued to work him like this, he wouldn’t last long enough to get the hard fuck he needed and as if sensing this, the bearded man chuckled and continued abusing the bundle of nerves that were making him lose his grip on himself and throw his head back.

“P-please Alfie.”

“Please what, Thomas?” 

“Please A-Alfie I can’t take it” his voice cracking with desperation, neglected cock leaking against his stomach as he begged. Well, someone had obviously stopped being a fucking brat.

Pulling his slicked fingers from Tommy, he smirked to himself before unzipping his trousers just enough to fish out his painfully hard length and gave himself a few hard tugs watching the mess of a man tied to the bed. Locking eyes with him, he teased with a voice low and gravelly,

“Not so fucking bossy are we now, Treacle? Hm?”

The Shelby’s brow knitted together slightly, mouth opening to speak but a pointed look had him reconsidering his priorities and nodding submissively.

“Say it” reaching for the bottle of lube by the bedside, he popped the cap and coated his length generously, he repeated “Say it poppet.”  
Thrusting his full length into his tight warmth all at once, Tommy cried out and tugged on the binding in response, hard enough to surely leave marks that would act as a reminder for a couple days.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“I’m yours!” he slurred as Alfie started gently rocking into him, as deep as he could go.  
“I belong to you.”

That was music to Alfie’s fucking ears now wasn’t it, and he continued at a steady pace trying not to lose his shit just yet.

Then, gripping onto Tommy’s hips, he started thrusting with increasing fervour, diving into pleasure head first and indulging in the satisfaction that came from dominance and drawing incoherent sounds from the man he loved. But upon feeling a tell-tale deep warmth in the pit of his stomach already, he stilled and withdrew himself.

The poor cunt’s eyes, so close to relief widened in horror at the loss of friction (he could have felt sorry for him if this wasn’t what he deserved) as he watched Alfie reach down and rifle through the pocket of the evening jacket.  
Almost about to sob, or object or fucking demand to have his insides rearranged again, he writhed and bucked into the air still restrained. He was so desperate at this point. And what he fuck was he doing?

Resurfacing from the ground, Tommy’s mobile phone was resting in his hand.  
Smirking and without saying a word, he reached to untie him from the headboard, both men still too hard to be comfortable and breathing heavily.

Confusion was written on every inch of his face as his hands were freed, and the startling realisation that he might be denied release to teach him a lesson because he’d pushed his luck too far started to settle in. After the week he’d had as well—the bastard he couldn’t do this to him! Not when he was this close!  
Just when he was about to protest, Alfie still fully clothed except his dick in his hand marvelled at his naked husband again, at his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and face contorted with annoyance.  
Bless him.

“Get on your stomach.”

And his eyes lit up again, obediently rolling onto his front, strong hands bending his knees so that he was baring himself like an offering. Cheek sticking the sheets, he waited for instruction or to get fucked again or something other than what he was about to hear.

“Right mate. This is what’s gonna happen.” He clapped his palm hard across Tommy’s bare arse for emphasis.  
“Since you’re such a fucking brat tonight Tom, I’m gonna fuckin treat ya like one. You’re going to dial Arthur’s number and kindly explain to him that we are missing out on this god forsaken dinner party.”

“But—” he objected, panic and regret making his voice shrill like a whine.

“No buts. Here you go Sweetie.” He handed the sleek phone, slapping his arse once again for good luck.

Was he fucking mental? Yes. He was a fucking madman. _But that’s what happens isn’t it yeah, when you get all entitled and bratty and act like a whore, you’re gonna have to repent for it mate._

As his shaking fingers began to dial Arthur’s contact, still on all fours, Alfie entered him once again and started a steady rhythm back up, much to Tommy’s disdain as his cheeks burned bright red and he wailed.  
_Fucking shit._  
The number dialed, but to his horror, Alfie’s pounding didn’t feel like it was going to ease off any time soon. If anything, it was getting faster  
And as the call was answered, a familiar brash voice sounded down the line and it sounded like a question, not that Tommy could concentrate.

Alfie sank his length to the base and stilled as Tommy tried to gather himself together enough to string a sentence together.

“Yeah y’alright Arthur. Um—just ringing to say I can’t come to the Dinner party tonight. Mhm yep, very sorry.”

“What’s happened like Tommy? Anything serious?” Arthur replied, sounding vaguely concerned, whilst Tommy sank his teeth into his knuckle to remain calm and neutral.

“Um” his head turned slightly to look at the man putting him through hell  
“Alfie broke his leg.”  
Hanging up without waiting for a reply, he let his burning face flop against the mattress and both men chuckled breathlessly.

Taking that as a signal to start fucking him as hard as he could again, Alfie withdrew slightly and slammed back into his entrance, regaining intensity and abusing his sweet spot as Tommy cursed, moaned, and drooled onto the sheets.

Thrusts becoming sloppy and tired, he decided that his husband has probably learnt his lesson, because he couldn’t keep this up much longer so he exhaled,

“Go on Love, come for me.”

That being all the encouragement he needed, the brunet spilled with a shout, and rode out the blinding waves of his orgasm, hitting him hard and overwhelming as he continued to be railed.

Not a moment later, Alfie followed suit, burying himself deep and filling his husband with his spoils with a guttural groan, feeling that perfect arse rock lazily back against him as he came. Fucking magnificent.

He withdrew after panting and regathering his strength, peppering Tommy’s back, which arched under the touch, with kisses. As they rolled onto the mattress together completely spent, he was pulled into a sturdy embrace, his chest dripping with sweat and Alfie began stroking though his damp hair.  
After settling into the afterglow for a good five minutes, they were able to recall the absolute scandal of the phone call and Shelby began laughing quietly, resting his head against the arm firmly wrapped around him.

“We’re gonna have to get you a fake cast.” he breathed softly.  
Mirroring his husband’s astonished laughter, Alfie began shaking his head in defeat, muttering 

“You’re not fuckin funny.”


End file.
